


Atrum Vox

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Arts, Gen, M/M, child sacrifice, first wizarding war, interspecies mating (mentions), pureblood rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the most powerful magic is also Dark Magic. Yet there are those who revel in its power and do not shy away from the darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood Curse

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Atrum Vox is Latin for “dark power” or “powers of dark”.  
> 2\. This is a cycle. That is, these are ficlets/drabbles that are unrelated to each other aside from having a common theme, in this case, dark deeds/rituals. These ficlets were originally written as entries for **darkarts_ldws** . This is a cumulative header, each part will be posted with its own title, word count, rating and warnings..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Abraxas, Lucius  
> Word Count: 525  
> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: None

“What is it, Father?” Fourteen-year-old Lucius stood still with eyes wide open and staring entranced as his father produced a small vile of clear fluid from under his robes.

“Basilisk venom,” Abraxas said reverently, holding the glass tube up to the light of the candles around the altar. This deep below Malfoy Manor the air was chilled and small breezes came and went unrepentantly, making the candles flicker.

“Why do we require a poison?”

“Basilisk venom is not just a potent poison, although it is primarily known as such. But it has several magic uses and qualities. Herein, the spell and the artifacts require the poison to work. All Blood Curses have such a component – something that is not wandwork.” Abraxas gently unscrewed the top of the flask and began to pour the venom in small quantities on the various artifacts on the alter. Lucius thought he heard a faint hissing and the candles flickered. “All ancient Pureblood families have an equally ancient rival family for whom they have invented Blood Curses. The rituals for them are performed generation through generation, sometimes even once the rival family no longer has heirs. The curses – meant to kill and to torture – are incurable for various reasons. Firstly, it is very Old Magic. And Old Magic is often far beyond the cognition of modern wizards. Secondly, these curses contain something specific to each family, to the blood itself.”

“Is that why we use Basilisk venom for ours?”

“Yes, Lucius. The Malfoys have always associated themselves with serpents. It is said that some of our earliest ancestors had the Gift and could rally serpents to their causes.” Abraxas raised his arms and pointed his wand. He began to…sing. It was not speaking and it was not chanting. Lucius could only describe it as singing. He watched, amazed as the air filled with hissing and his father’s voice which sang and boomed through the chamber.

Abraxas touched his want to the center piece of the alter and the candles flicked out. Silence fell, crushing and hollow all at once around the chamber. All sound and light seemed to have been drained from the world.

Then, in a flash, it was back. The candled burned brighter than before and Lucius could make out the smallest sounds. “Is it done?” Lucius asked, taking pains to keep his voice as cool as possible.

“Yes.” Abraxas turned around slowly and walked to his son. He put both hands on Lucius’ shoulders. “The Blood Curse can only be cast and upheld by the Head of the family and his true, eldest living son. You are too young for this magic now but, when you are of age, Lucius, you will know all.”

“Who is our rival family, Father?”

Abraxas stepped back. “You will know when the time comes.” He signaled for Lucius to leave with him. Lucius, as he left, tried to sneak a glance at the crest in the middle of the alter to see if he could recognize the coat-of-arms. He did not get a clear look, but Lucius could have sworn that it had seen a weasel on the crest.

  



	2. The Price of Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Regulus, Orion, Sirius, OCs  
> Word Count: 500  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Warnings: child sacrifice

The wind blows in soft whispering gusts, rustling and flapping the bottom of Regulus’ cloak and robes around his ankles. The fabric makes a soft hissing sound that melts with the wind. There are other similar sounds, and if Regulus closes his eyes he can pick out most of them – dry leaves, rolling sticks and pebbles pushed along by the wind, a loose knot of tumbleweed…

The sky is dark. Only the edge of the moon peeks out like a shard of silver against black velvet. Usually, ritual nights would be bright with the moon full, lumbering overhead. Or so Regulus has read. But this isn’t a lunar ritual and his father says, “the darker the better” as his hand takes Regulus’.

“Why is it better?” Regulus murmurs, his eyes fixed on the circle drawn on the ground with white powder. He looks at the other few grownups who are there, the family of the squib child. The head of the family is one of Orion’s closest friends and this is why he was aloud to come and watch and intrude on something so private with his two sons. They stand on either side of Orion, Sirius – eight, his shoulders hunched and his eyes firmly fixed downward – and Regulus – seven, his eyes wide and wondering.

“When the veil is thinnest between the world of the living and Other Side, it is better to keep things in shadow,” Orion says. “You are too young to understand now, Regulus, but some day you will.”

“When you’re ready to murder your own child,” Sirius mutters.

“Keep your mouth shut, Sirius,” Orion growls. No answer follows but Sirius no longer protests, only slouches more.

The adults form a circle outside of the Zone. A boy, a couple or so years younger than Regulus, is led into the center and told to lie on the ground. The boy is crying, his eyes wide and uncertain, he doesn’t seem to understand what is happening. He is immobilized then and the head of the family makes sure everyone is at a proper distance out of the Zone before lifting his wand.

Fire springs up on the circumference of the circle and the wizard begins a monotone drone. Regulus recognizes it as a Samhain hymn, their family sung a similar one earlier that night during the holiday Rituals. Except there were no children in the middle of burning circles when they did it.

Despite the fire, Regulus feels cold. He shivers violently. The wind rises in a howl to meld with the incantation. The hymn hitches, then starts anew. This one Regulus does not know. The fire begins to crawl inward and Regulus presses against his father’s side. “Will he burn?” he whispers.

“The Ancestors will take him first,” Orion says. “If they bring such a child into the world, they must have him back. The sacrifice will return the child to them and absolve the family’s shame.”

Regulus nods, and is happy he wasn’t born a squib.

 

 


	3. Uninvited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paring: Severus/Lucius (one-sided)  
> Word Count: 700  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Warnings: A tiny bit of swearing, teen with sexual fantasies

Antonin won’t teach them Legilimency; it’s far removed from his area of expertise. Severus has the snide thought that Antonin’s bluntness has something to do with it, as Legilimency is a much more delicate art than it appears to be at first. However, Antonin can recognize someone with the right potential, and so Severus is meant to be handed over to Andre Rosier, who is Head of Interrogation in the Lord’s cabinet, for further training.

It is, however, Lucius Malfoy who ends up training him. Severus is surprised by the change but doesn’t protest. He likes the thought of spending more time with Lucius, in the richly decorated Malfoy drawing room where Lucius insists on holding lessons, before the glowing fireplace and with a constant excuse to look into Lucius’ eyes. Those grey pools of melted silver… Severus shivers every time he thinks of them.

He knows a lot of theory going into the lessons and he can cast the spell right. but his first attempts are futile. Lucius purposefully meets his eyes, but Severus cannot breach even the basic shields Lucius presents him with. The first time he manages to get through, he is met by a jumble of fleeting, useless memories, images of peacocks strutting across the Malfoy lawn and boring, public Ministry sessions.

“I don’t understand,” Severus says, hoarsely, after one such attempt, lowering his wand, and brushing sweat-soaked strands off his forehead.

Lucius shakes his head. “You have to find what you’re looking for. Even getting through the shields doesn’t mean you can just acquire any memory you want. Any wizard with experience will usually try to throw you off track, shove useless things into the forefront of their mind. You have to…slither through the cracks.” Lucius gives a slight flourish with his hand as though to imitate such a slither. At Severus’ uncomprehending look, Lucius says softly, “Alright, look into my eyes.”

Severus meets Lucius’ eyes and waits. He sees Lucius cast the spell with just his lips and instantly feels a foreign presence in his mind. The feeling is strange, intrusive and uncomfortable. Almost instinctively, he tries to throw up shields against the invisible hand that begins to sift through his memories, like sand slipping through fingers. He has no real experience here either and Lucius easily brushes him aside.

Really, at first, Severus doesn’t actually mind the exercise, focused on trying to pick up on Lucius’ technique. Lucius sifts through conversations with friends, train rides to school and back, training sessions, potions experiments. Even the glimpses of his home life don’t contain anything Lucius doesn’t at least suspect. Then, suddenly, before Severus realizes it, Lucius stumbles onto a loose end of some thought and tugs at it so hard that Severus thinks his head will explode. Memories flash before him with blinding speed. School days, Potter’s gang, Lily… More Lily and then Severus’ recently flourished fantasies about her and then his fantasies about…

Panic overtakes him, and Severus tries to shove Lucius’ away, to put up shields, to withdraw, to – for Merlin’s sake! – shove lists of potions ingredients he’d memorized into the forefront of his mind. But Lucius always finds the cracks and prides them wide open, slithers right through the imperfections. Severus, in his mind’s eye, sees himself watching Lucius with lusty eyes, watches himself follow Narcissa with jealous glares, watches himself – oh fuck – masturbate and call Lucius’ name as he climaxes.

“Stop! Stop it!” Severus doesn’t realize he’s almost screaming until Lucius withdraws from his mind and regards him with cool, unreadable eyes in the unsure light of the fireplace. Severus is breathing hard, cheeks flushed and heart racing.

“I think that’s all for today,” Lucius says in a quiet, silky tone.

Severus jumps from the armchair he had been sitting in and runs for the door. Once he’s far from Malfoy Manor he allows himself to cry in pure embarrassment. Once he’s calmed he thinks that perhaps Legilimency isn’t what he should be studying. Perhaps Occlumency would be more worthwhile.

And that he would do on his own. Far from anyone who could take advantage of him. Next time, no one will be let through to his mind. No one.  



	4. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Bellatrix, Andre Rosier, Dearborn  
> Word Count: 600  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Warnings: Torture (mostly non-graphic)

“Aren’t you supposed to be our specialist in this?” Bellatrix teased Andre Rosier as he led her to the interrogation cells at the Lord’s headquarters.

“I am. But we’re talking about an Auror here, Bella. I need a second strong Crucio to break his shields but also someone who can control the spell.” He looked at her seriously. “I’m serious about the control part.”

She shrugged. “Alright, alright. I thought Barty was your apprentice?”

“Barty’s just sixteen, Bella. This isn’t a job for a child.”

They walked through a set of metal double doors and into a long, dark hall. The smell here was dank and the light came from torches placed at random along the walls. Their footsteps echoed hauntingly, bouncing off the grey walls. Bellatrix took in the sheer, dark power of this place. It wasn’t Azkaban but it was goo enough for its purpose and even more satisfying to the internal magic, uncorrupted with unwholesome creatures, deep under ground and guarded by layer and layers of blood wards, ancient spells layered one over the other.

Rosier swung the door to one of the interrogation rooms open and let her pass before him. Bella’s wand was already in her hand. The light here was artificial, blue-white, like an enormous lumos that filled the entire room with hypnotic clarity.

A man was half-lying, half-sitting on the floor, his body bent at strange angles. He had already been worked on, Bella decided. She knew that what was holding him, except for his obviously broken legs, were a few magic, invisible chains. Effective way of binding, really.

“Dearborn,” she sneered. “Not only are you an Auror but also an Order rat.” She spat at him, her black cloak swishing out behind her, the skirt of her black gown rippling around her ankles. She began to walk around him in a circle as Rosier did the same, following her around and around. They became two black shapes, circling the Auror who cowered on the cold stone floor, pretending to not cower.

“I won’t tell you anything!” Dearborn protested even as they closed in on him. “I won’t tell you anything!” he continued to scream, even as Bellatrix and Rosier began to narrow the circle, their cloaks sometimes brushing Dearborn’s arms and face. Bella knew this routine and it excited her. She felt hot with the power growing inside her, making the tip of her wand spark.

“Now, Andre,” she hissed, annoyed that here, in his domain, the elder Rosier brother was her superior.

“Wait.” They continued to move in circles, rapidly, fluidly. Black storm clouds in unnatural, blinding light. “Tell us where they are.”

“No!”

They made two more circles and Rosier gave the command. “Crucio!” Bella cried, triumphantly, watching the light spring from her wand and crash into the Auror. He writhed and screamed and she was loath to let go, but they had to continue to circle and she was only supposed to cast form behind. She circled, breathing in deep when she was at his front and then exhaling her power into the Unforgivable.

No one could possibly understand the thrill of this magic the way she did. She and perhaps a few others who were considered “specialists” in the field. It had a certain feel, a certain taste, like strong, fermented wine. When the magic grew in her and was then released it was like having an orgasm. Time blurred as power radiate through and out her.

“Stop!” Rosier finally ordered. “Stop, Bella.”

She stopped, reluctantly, and lowered her wand. She wanted Rosier enter the Auror’s mind. Success

  



	5. Crossbreeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Evan, Regulus, Severus  
> Word Count: 700  
> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: mentions of cross-species mating

Evan was surprised when he received the project assignment. Getting assigned to the Lab for one thing or another was Severus’ forte, sometimes Barty would be “borrowed.” Evan wasn’t sure what use he could be to the Lab as he had neither superior potions skills nor superior arithmency skills, not superior knowledge of spell development.

The project turned out to be breeding experiments and research. He, Regulus, Severus and another half-blood boy were to work under the supervision of Ivan Voskresenski – Karkaroff’s second in command – to experiment with Dementors and their breeding habits and what results you could get if crossing them with other species. The thought of something like Dementors mating made Evan nauseous but he kept it to himself. Apparently, he and Regulus were there because they both had a very good knowledge of the way bloodlines work, of how to research them, and the magical properties of blood. This was something stressed in Pureblood families but the Blacks and the Rosiers were two of the several families most particular about teaching their children these things. The half-blood – Craigan or something –seemed to have a good grasp on Muggle hereditary sciences, something he called genetics.

“What do you think the point of all this is?” Evan asked Regulus and Severus once as they worked. Craigan had left earlier. They didn’t quite trust him enough to talk about sensitive things with him, mainly because he wasn’t Marked and probably never would be.

“Not sure,” Regulus said. “I suppose they want to come up with some sort of cross-breed, something even more dangerous than a Dementor.”

“What could possibly be more dangerous or disgusting than a Dementor?” Evan held up a book with a gruesome illustration of two Dementors mating.

His friends both made a face. “Merlin,” Severus muttered. “Is that really what Dementor pornography looks like?”

Regulus and Evan laughed, faking gagging sounds even as they did. “They’re not compatible with much,” Regulus said after a moment. “Not centaurs, not non-humanoid beasts, not mermaids, not giants—“

“No one’s compatible with giants,” Severus muttered.

“Except Hagrid’s mum,” Evan pointed out.

Severus snorted. “Isn’t it his dad?”

Regulus rolled his eyes at them. “Would you two focus? Anyways, not giants. They can mate with witches, I guess, and Veelas, but who in their right mind would mate with something this disgusting?”

“No idea. Have we looked into the more…ancient specimens?”

“What’s the use if they’re extinct?”

Evan shrugged. Veelas. That had caught his attention. Something about it seemed right, but he couldn’t really place it. Besides, the idea of beautiful women mating with Dementors was disturbing.

Their report was inconclusive at best: Dementors could mate with witches and Veelas but the fetus would most likely kill the mother before it was developed enough to live outside of her. Veelas were more likely to carry out a full term, though, and the cross-bread would have the Dementor’s powers along with the Veela allure, making it very deadly. Also, possibly, immune to the Patronus. However, Dementors were more likely to kiss rather than mate with anything in a humanoid form.

Evan found the answer two years later. Regulus was dead by this point and most of the Lab’s more extensive research had been abandoned because of the strain of the war. Ever since Regulus died, Evan had developed an interest in necromancy which led him away from British and other West European texts and into East European ones. He didn’t have much time for reading but end of October, 1981 saw an action lull. The Veela book came into his hands on accident, something he just picked up.

And there it was: Eastern European Veelas. The French Veelas were an offspring branch from East European Veelas. Their evolution had made it hard for them to turn back into their natural bird-shaped form so they remained almost always under Glamour. East European Veelas had retained their ability to return to the bird form at will. And, most importantly, the text indicated that these Veelas were the most likely ancestor species of Dementors.

By the time Evan wrote up the information for Headquarters, the news came down the line that the Lord had fallen.

  



End file.
